Feet of Clay
by anne-writes
Summary: Draco and Luna after the Final Battle. He's hurt. And he's captivated with her, but she's ethereal, untouchable. But maybe she wants to heal him. Set at Hogwarts during Draco's 7th year and Luna's 6th. AU, obviously, since they did those grades during DH
1. Chapter 1

This is for _slightlysickpsycho_, because she asked if I could do more characters right as I was wondering the same thing.

I sometimes forget to add this in my stories, but they're usually inspired by songs. This one is based on _"Smart In a Stupid Way,"_ by Steven Strait, from the movie _Undiscovered._

* * *

She was seven, and laying in the grass out front of her house, counting the clouds. Between numbers she would specify the animals, vegetables, unimaginable creatures that they resembled. One, antelope. Two, slightly bruised turnip. Three, baby dragon.

Suddenly she saw a shadow pass, and she sat up, looking about for whoever it was—perhaps her mother, looking for her to tell her to come in, wash her face. But it wasn't. Instead it was a young boy, about her age, maybe older, and similar enough in appearance that they could have been related. His hawkish appearance, though, the jutting chin and thin lips, was not reflected in the girl's rounded features, big blue eyes, full mouth.

She smiled broadly at him.

"I'm Luna Lovegood. Would you like to count the clouds with me?" she said brightly, pointing up at the sky. Had she been standing, she would be twirling in circles, joyous in the air and the sun.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Clouds don't exist," he said accusingly.

She wrinkled her brow. "Of course they do. I can see them."

He shook his head. "They're masses of water droplets."

And she laughed. "That's even better!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I've always wondered what it would be like to walk through a cloud."

An almost-smile broke across his face. "You have!" he said loudly. "That's what fog is! It's just a very low cloud!" it was unclear to her whether his excitement was over knowing something she didn't or that he was excited to be talking about such fantastic things.

"That's enough, Draco. We are done here," a tall man called icily as he strode down the path. A strange look passed over the boy's face. He raised his hand in a half wave, seeming almost scared, before running to join his father.


	2. Chapter 2

When she had seen the boy again, four years and a world of heartbreak later, in the dining hall of her new school, she had run up to greet him. She hadn't really ever had friends before, and now being surrounded by so many new people was overwhelming her a bit.

But he had stood from the long table where he was seated and looked down his nose at her, a sarcastic smile tilting one side of his mouth.

"If it isn't little Luna Lovegood," he said loudly. She hadn't responded, just looked up at him, confused. He continued.

"One of the worst little blood traitors of them all," he said tauntingly, leaning in slightly, menacingly.

She had walked away, rejoined the group, fiddling with her long hair, and when she glanced over her shoulder, he was watching her.


	3. Chapter 3

Six years later, she was barefoot, toes curled into the damp dirt beneath her feet, sitting on a bench with Ginny during a recess period early in the fall.

When she looked up, she saw him walking past, arm around a girl in Slytherin robes. His eyes met hers, and held, his head turning as they walked past. He finally broke eye contact, and she returned to her book.

She noticed his eyes on her more after that, during meals and combined classes. She felt him watching her, but instead of making her feel uncomfortable, she felt safe. For the first time in years.


	4. Chapter 4

Late one evening, she was wandering up to the Owlery, returning her father's most recent letter (which had been scribbled onto the back a piece of a cereal box). She began the ascent, her toes still dirty from earlier in the day, slightly chilly because she had forgotten her sweater in Transfiguration class.

She turned the corner, and there was Draco, checking that the doors to the classrooms were adequately locked. She continued forward, planning on just floating past him undetected, but he saw her and stood up sharply.

"Lovegood." He said, more of a statement than a greeting.

"Hello, Draco," she said, smiling slightly.

He seemed wary of that, an undeserved and unsolicited smile from someone who should dislike him.

"It's past hours," he said, but the warning fell flat. He seemed knocked slightly off balance.

"I was just going up to send a letter," she responded softly.

He should have taken points off. As Head Boy, and as a Slytherin, there was no question that points should be deducted from a wandering Ravenclaw. But he didn't, he didn't even reprimand her, he just turned and began to walk away, as though something had startled him.

She watched him as he went back the way she had come from. But he stopped suddenly, though he didn't turn to face her.

"Lovegood—" he began, but he halted.

"Yes?" she said, her voice floating through the air.

He cleared his throat. She waited.

"Do you—do you still count clouds?" he asked, his voice laden with something, as if his question was more than a slightly odd inquiry, as though there were something very meaningful at stake if she answered incorrectly.

She tilted her head.

"Yes… and I also think of you when I walk through fog," she said quietly, seriously.

He nodded, and though she couldn't see his face, she knew it was stoic as ever.

He strode off down the hallway.


	5. Chapter 5

He found her one cool October night sitting against a tree by the lake. He only watched her for a moment, examining the way she held herself, as though he thought that by learning her movements he would be able to mimic them. Because he wanted more than anything to be like her—dreamy, and free.

He approached her, but she didn't turn to face him even when he sat next to her. He leaned his head back against the cool back of the tree, and closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. She smelled like cinnamon, and freshly cut grass, and a hint of something else that he couldn't quite name. A flower.

He felt indescribably jealous of her, and unimaginably terrified of not being near her. He had to be like her, because he was falling apart. And he had been falling apart for _so long_.

He didn't even noticed that there were tears running down his face until he felt her small hand brush them from his cheeks. He brought his own hands up to cover his face, not wanting her to see him cry. She gently pried them away, holding them with her own, and leant forward, brushing her lips against his so softly. He had never had anything feel like this before—a visible torrent of emotion, and pain, that he wasn't being punished for. He pulled his hands from hers and wrapped them around the back of her head, pulling her closer. Her hands flitted along his arms until she found his shoulders, where she dug her small hands in forcefully.

But just as suddenly, she pulled back, and just looked at him. She ran her middle finger over his lower lip, thoughtfully, before pulling back entirely and standing. She offered him her hand and helped him up.

"I don't want you to do anything you will regret," she said quietly, looking up at him with those big blue eyes.

He shook his head quickly. "I won't, I promise."

She eyed him pensively, before shaking her head. "I don't think that is true."

A rush of anger overtook him. "Don't think you can go about telling me what I will or won't feel!" his voice deadly.

She shrugged lightly, nonchalantly brushing off his anger, before lightly intertwining her fingers in his and tugging him back toward the castle.

The blood was pounding in his ears, but he couldn't manage to bring himself to pull his hand away.


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing changed. Or rather, very little changed, to an outside observer. But they both noticed it, the way his eyes darkened slightly when he watched her at dinner. And how he would sit next to her in the library, at one of the far tables, though he had finished his homework already.

But now it was Christmas, and he was sullenly packing a bag for his trip home when there was a knock on his door. He jerked it open to find Blaise smirking at him.

"Looney is in the hallway, she wants to see you."

Draco was at the staircase before Blaise had even finished.

In the hallway, Luna was standing near the door, seeming to count something on her fingers. She was wearing a light blue dress over thick grey tights, with a warm cardigan pulled over that.

She looked up when she saw him, and smiled. He smiled back, not caring that they were in front of the Slytherin common room and there were undoubtedly countless eyes watching them. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did, like a lovesick puppy.

She led him away, down the long dungeon hallway, up a narrow staircase he had never used before, which led to a small alcove with several doors.

She went and opened the first, and pulled him inside. The room was small, octagonal in shape, and devoid of furniture aside from a low velvet bench in front of the surprisingly large window.

"Where are we?" he asked softly, not wanting to ruin the moment. The moonlight from the window spun through her hair magically. She had removed her sweater while he was studying the room, leaving her thin shoulders and porcelain skin exposed and glowing.

She smiled, a secret smile. "These are empty offices, to use if we ever get any more professors. But we've always had the same number, so they've been forgotten."

She stepped forward, and wound her arms around his neck, stretching up to meet his lips softly before dropping back to the flats of her feet.

"It occurred to me," she said softly, "That I was left wanting that night by the lake."

"_You_ were left wanting?" he asked incredulously.

She laughed lightly. "Okay, maybe we were both left wanting." She kissed him again.

"And now it's time for the holiday, and I won't see you for weeks," she said. "So I was planning on taking advantage of you now, so that I'll have something to remember you by."

He laughed then, just for a moment, but she thought that it was the prettiest thing she had ever seen—a smile crossing his face unabashedly, instead of the usual scowl. He probably didn't even know he was doing it anymore.

"I like it when you smile," she said wickedly, walking him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the wide bench. She pressed him down onto the bench, small hands still holding his shoulders. Then she straddled him, knees on either side of his hips, and tangled her fingers in his hair. With a low groan, he leaned forward and caught her mouth with his.


	7. Chapter 7

Much later, when they were lying face to face, out of breath and sweaty, entwined on the bench, he smiled again. Freely. She smiled too, and traced the hard edges of his face with her fingertips, memorizing not just the sight of his face but the feel of it as well.

"I missed you, you know," she whispered.

He wrinkled his brow, and she smoothed it with her fingertips. "When? You mean since the night by the lake?" he asked.

She shook her head as much as she could while lying down. "No. I missed the boy I met the summer I was seven. The one who knew things about clouds. I haven't seen him in years and years, and I thought he was gone." And her fingers brushed the skin along his cheekbones. "But he isn't. I see him, sometimes. When you don't realize you've let your guard down."

He was suddenly embarrassed, tense. He hadn't meant to show his emotions so openly, even to her. He stood and dressed quickly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he whispered hoarsely, not meeting her eyes.

She nodded. "I think you do. Over winter break, I want you to think about it. Because that's what I love in you."

He grabbed his sweater and left.


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't see her again, not in the school nor on the train. He didn't want that to disappoint him so much.

His mother may have noticed something different in his demeanor, but if she did, she tactfully didn't bring it up. She was busying herself organizing the Malfoy's annual Christmas ball, which had been cancelled the year prior for obvious reasons. She was attempting to create a guest list that, while still being exclusive, would contain all the proper sorts of people so that it would be seen a celebratory union of the two spheres of the Wizarding world. Lucius had nothing but contempt for the Wizarding world now, and though he had evaded Azkaben, he secluded himself in a luxurious townhouse overseas, effectively abandoning Narcissa. Draco felt the way the house had changed without him there, becoming something less intimidating, less representative of the fear that he had grown up surrounded by. Narcissa was easily distracted and frequently flustered now, though she lavished her son with conventional attention she felt guilty about not supplying during his childhood.

His home felt almost comfortable, but it was undeniable that there were horrible memories that had pervaded the very floorboards of the estate. He knew that Narcissa had had the dungeons completely remodeled and now they were full of bright colors and lovely carpet, but even that couldn't cover up the atrocities that had taken place. And the two of them had abandoned the formal dining room for the large table in the kitchen, because the other was too painfully reminiscent of their choices.

And he hated it. He hated feeling like this everywhere he was—shameful, and unbearably guilty. He knew it wasn't his fault, he had been bred and raised for the specific purpose of carrying Lucius' name and everything that it entailed, but he felt so conflicted. How much of it was his fault alone?

Besides, though his father had never been kind, nor loving, he still felt a deep hurt when his father left them. He had always thought that he, as Lucius' prized son, was more important than Voldemort, or the pureblood cause. But apparently that was not the case.


	9. Chapter 9

He hadn't paid any attention to the Ball his mother was planning. He spent his days sulking about the manor, or sitting in uncomfortable armchairs attempting to read books he had no interest in. His thoughts were always on Luna, wondering where she was and what she was doing at every moment of the day. And at night, he lay awake, unable to sleep for the painful sense of longing that he felt for her. He knew that on some level he loved her because she represented his childhood, his lost innocence. But he also loved _her,_ the way her wavy hair caught the sunlight and turned gold, or the moonlight and turned silver. The way her skin had looked against the faded pink velvet of the bench. The feel of her fingers tangled in his hair. The quietly neutral look that graced her face when he fled.

And as he thought of her more and more, he became more and more uncomfortable with the idea of her. He wasn't just nostalgic for his lost childhood, he was bitter. And he was ashamed of the things he had done as a child, when she was playing in the sunshine outside her odd tower of a house. While she had been making daisy chains and naming clouds, he had been diligently learning from his father, learning things that no boy of his age should know.

His anger that had previously been directed inwards at himself began to be directed at her, for having such an unsullied life. He was so indescribably jealous of her, of her loving parents, of her ethereality. Why hadn't that been him?

He knew it was sick, and wrong. But trapped in that enormous house, with only an army of house-elves, an easily distracted mother, and all of his pain, her couldn't help hating her.


	10. Chapter 10

On the night of the Malfoy Winter Ball, Draco descended the stairs, dressed in stark black dress robes. There were already people filling the foyer and large ballroom, even though it was only eight.

He spotted a girl he knew from school, Emline, standing with her parents, and made his way over. She was in Slytherin, a year or two younger than him, and she had olive skin and thick black hair and bright hazel eyes. So different from the girl he was trying to forget. He made small talk with her and her family, before asking her to dance. They spent most of the night together, and he knew that she was entranced with him. He was less captivated by the girl herself, but by the weight of her in his arms, the heaviness of her, the solidity. This was a girl who could have suffered. This was a girl who was completely part of this world. And there was nothing he wanted more than to feel like he was tethered to something real.

He kept thinking he saw Luna, but he had specifically asked his mother not to include her family on the guest list. His mother had almost asked him why, but instead she had just given him a long hug before wandering off.

After countless dances with Emline, he pulled her gently to a darkened corner of the room, and kissed her thoroughly. Eventually they returned to the dance floor, and before long her parents came to collect her. He nodded his farewells, suddenly disgusted with himself for some reason, and headed for the stairs.

But Luna was standing there, and his blood turned simultaneously hot and cold. She was beautiful, her long blonde hair in a loose braid trailing down her back, which was left otherwise bare by the loose silver dress she wore. The dress' infinite layers were weighed down with beading and embroidery, and she had a thin matching beaded ribbon tied about her head.

She was talking to Neville Longbottom, and was laughing at something he said, her fingers wrapped carelessly around her champagne flute.

She looked up, feeling someone watching her, and their eyes met. A sudden fury passed across her face, but then it was gone again, leaving her cool exterior unruffled. She politely excused herself from Neville, before turning and walking swiftly out the door. Draco almost tripped over himself following her, and finally caught up with her on the path down to the road.

He grabbed her wrist, spinning her around and holding her to face him. She struggled against him for a moment, but finally stopped. Raising her chin defiantly, she met his eyes, and he saw the barest hint of moisture at the edge of her eye.

He reached to wipe it away, and she flinched visibly when he brushed her cheek. He dropped both his hands suddenly, releasing her, feeling so much all at once that he couldn't bear it.

"Why are you here?" he asked softly, defeated.

"Because Neville asked me. And I didn't realize that it would mean anything, I thought perhaps you would just ignore me and I would go home, sad but understanding why this is hard for you. Because I understand you, Draco, even though you can't fathom that. I understand how you feel, and I want to hold you until it goes away. I want to protect you from ever being hurt again."

He felt tears rolling off his chin, and he reached for her. She shut her eyes and stepped away, as if it were the hardest thing she had ever done.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but as if she knew what he was about to say, she stopped him.

"Just because you're hurting doesn't mean you can make the people who love you hurt," she whispered, her voice cracking. He shook his head, trying to make her understand that he didn't mean it, that he needed her, but she stopped him again.

"I just have one question," she said, her soft voice turning to steel. He nodded quickly, wanting so badly to pull her to him.

"Have you ever had a lover that you didn't betray?"

He opened his mouth to say that he would protect her forever, that he would never cause her any pain, but the look on her face told him that he already had. So he turned his head to the side, silent, and she walked away.


	11. Chapter 11

He drifted through school. He did his schoolwork, managed to keep his housemates at bay, and otherwise didn't think about much.

And of course, he saw her everywhere. Every time he rounded a corner, she was sitting on a bench or walking just ahead of him. Though, if he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit that it wasn't as if he were trying to avoid her. Maybe the opposite—he frequented the library more often than he ever had before, always sitting at the table closest to the door. And he watched her at meals. Sometimes her eyes met his, but they were cool, neutral. Once she even raised her eyebrow at him, before returning to her conversation.

But she never spoke to him, even when he approached her late one night in the library. He had sat down, and had almost apologized, but she had just picked up her bag and walked away.

And now it was summer, the muggy heat pressing ominously on the manor, and though every room was kept cool with an array of cooling charms, he could feel it. He hadn't left the house in weeks, hadn't really had a need to. He stayed indoors, working on obtaining a job now that he had graduated. There were many options, and he applied for them all, relying on his scores and hard work, and not on his father's money or connections for once.

He was offered a particularly competitive position at the Ministry of Magic, as apprentice to the Head of the Department of Mysteries, with the intent that he would replace the current one when he retired. The idea appealed to him immensely, for it wasn't as though he were lacking in experience with secrecy.

When he walked in that first day in August and was directed to his cramped office, he had felt better. It felt good to be doing something, to be growing, moving forward. He sat at the chair behind the large desk, and leaned back, and finally felt good about something. He felt deserving, for the first time in his life.


	12. Chapter 12

The time passed quickly. Days slipped into weeks, and weeks slipped into months, and slowly but surely she faded from his thoughts. She became nothing more than a ghost that haunted his nights, his days filled with paperwork and filing.

There were girls, of course. Countless girls. The studious ones doing internships, the pretty ones who sold newspapers in the lobby, the fashionable girls from the coffee shop. He flirted, took them out for dinner and dancing in London, and would snog them senseless in his flat once or twice. But invariably, his nightgaunt would creep into his thoughts, and he felt sick and guilty, all those feelings of inadequacy rushing back to him. So he would send them on their way, and never see them again.

And he spent his nights with Luna.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been a hectic day. There were three inquiries due tomorrow he was in the middle of processing, and to top it off, the Daily Prophet had chosen that day to send over a reporter to try to dig up what the Ministry was keeping quiet. He had tried to fend the awful girl off, before finally giving up and calling security. In addition, the temperature control spells had decided to malfunction, and the early September heat was oppressive and stifling. And that was all before lunch.

He headed, tired and hot, down to the main lobby to get some lunch before returning to his veritable mountain of paperwork. Rubbing his eye as he pushed through the crowd, he didn't even see the girl before he knocked to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, holding out a hand to help her up. The girl slowly collected her stack of files before standing on her own.

And in the instant before she pushed the curtain of blonde hair back from her face, he realized it and took a half-step back. She brushed the hair behind her ears, large blue eyes belying her otherwise calm exterior.

"What are you doing here?" he asked hoarsely, oblivious to the throngs of people pushing around the two of them as they stood in the middle of a crowded room.

Her eyes flashed, and for a split second he was abjectly afraid that she was going to walk away, or scream at him. But she didn't, and instead when she spoke, her voice was sweet and calm, which was somehow so much worse.

"Oh hello, Draco. I've just taken up a post as an apprentice in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Although controlling innocent creatures is not something I am in favor of, I do think that with this position I am putting myself in a good position to make policy change in the future."

He nodded slightly, mouth still hanging slightly open.

She smiled brightly, but he could see it wasn't sincere.

"Have a lovely afternoon, Draco," she said cheerily, and walked off.


	14. Chapter 14

Draco found himself sitting at his desk at five in the afternoon, still slightly stunned from his encounter earlier. After thinking of her every night for so long, he had forgotten that she could exist in the daylight. And he hadn't kept up with anyone from school, so he should have anticipated this as a possibility. But now she was here, in his building, and he felt her, even though she was eight floors above him.

He couldn't focus on his work, and he had to finish his inquiries by tonight. He let out a frustrated sigh and went to get a coffee. Maybe the barista would distract him.

But, just as fate would have it, as soon as the elevator doors opened, there she was. She didn't say anything, and neither did he. The elevator operator seemed to sense the tension, and after a glance at the two of them, attempted to expedite their trip to the lobby.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Luna walked quickly out and made a sharp right. Draco bolted after her, grabbing her shoulder before she could get any farther. She spun to face him, but after a furtive glance around the room, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a broom closet, casting a quick Silencing spell around the room.

"Draco Malfoy, I understand that there is something you feel the need to express to me but it is absolutely uncalled for to jeopardize my job like this" she said furiously.

"I didn't mean—" he tried, but she cut him off.

"Draco, you know that I just started here. Having any sense of scandal about my name will undoubtedly cause trouble for me!" she shot back.

"Well I'm sorry Luna! But you haven't spoken to me in a year and a half and now you're acting like everything is peachy-keen? That is obviously not the case!" he yelled, unsure of where this anger at her came from, but knowing it felt right.

"Why shouldn't I ignore you? What have you done to earn me?" she yelled, her calm exterior fracturing, revealing a flustered and out of breath young woman.

"I loved you," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I loved you, and you did that to me."

She looked at him for a moment, but he couldn't say anything. Stifling a sob, she turned and opened the closet door.

"Wait—" he whispered, almost silently.

She didn't turn around, but gave a short laugh. "Draco, I think I've waited long enough."

And she walked away, again.


End file.
